Twenty
by literaryfreak
Summary: Laurie keeps an eye on Jo during Meg's wedding. Title stupid, forgive me.


A/N. So I had all these ideas for this author's note and they've all just flown out of my head, now that I'm actually typing. Okay. So the first thing of this drabble, about watching the bride and subsequently _not_, I kinda borrowed from _The Hero and The Crown_ by Robin McKinley (which is a fabulous book, by the way) because I thought it was so lovely and exactly the kind of romancey-stuff I like best:) It's actually a little more indulgent than I'd rather write for this couple, but what the hey.

Also, the idea of Jo tying Laurie's bowtie thing I kinda borrowed from one of rese's first LW fics, because I loved it so much it is now engrained in my inner being. Thank you rese for writing so many stories that my heart must soon burst with joy! Oh and I think I might've stolen the first line from one of the chapters of _PL_. I am so hopeless.

I guess I need a disclaimer, though I think it's stupid, because what kind of fanfiction writer evens DARE to think they somehow own a part of what they're imitating? Those people give us a bad name and might even be part of the reason there is no longer a Robin McKinley section on this site.

* * *

He could not tear his eyes away from her.

At a wedding, you're only supposed to have eyes for the bride. It is her day and she is the center of attention, and she deserves every bit of it. Laurie wishes he could and that he would. But he can't, physically he cannot. It is the sister of the bride instead that has captured his gaze, and for the life of him he cannot look away.

He's heard people say that's she not beautiful, but they're wrong, and he's not just saying this because he's in love. His eyes follow and linger on the perfect, sharp cut of her nose; the bold red curve of a mouth; the two braids of hair tucked round her head as is she were a little girl living in the Alps; the aging ivory lace of her gloves that brush the underside of her wrist.

As he leans against a side of the house, where people are bustling in and out, bringing food and decorations and oh heavens the cake, he feels a little lazy under the warm mid-day sun, just gazing at Jo. Weddings always make him feel sentimental. Brings out his Italian side, he always thought. He can imagine the long mustache that would go with this image of himself. His passion for her must be evident to anyone who would dare to watch him, and so he feels a little wicked. Take some chances. At least once he should get to take her all in, his eyes filling with her, and not have to look away for her sake, for _propriety's_ sake. It's the laziness -- _Lazy Laurence_, he muses, not knowing how real of a nickname it will be in a few years time.

While lost in this reverie, she walks towards him. The pendant at her neck catches the fire of the sun in its sheen.

"Your bowtie's crooked, Teddy," she chirps, as she brings her hands up to fuss with the piece of cloth at his neck. With her standing so close, so close he can barely breathe, he would give anything, _anything_, to wrap his arms around her and kiss her ever so slowly.

She straightens up to admire her work, and a curl of hair escapes the tight bobby pins while doing so. "There's a wisp…" he begins and then finishes his sentence by reaching out and tucking the stray wisp of hair behind her ear. His fingers linger there before slowly traveling down her neck, lost in the moment.

A flicker of realization, but akin to horror, appears in her eyes for just a second before disappearing, he notes. She manages to extricate herself out of the situation with a half shrug, half shiver, and a tiny portion of a weak smile. It is a little too much for her this time. She's growing used to these impromptu, mysterious caresses, but the feel of the pads of his fingers down her skin is different. She starts to turn and walk back to where the ceremony is about to start.

With quick thinking, he grabs the crook of her elbow and asks if she would escort him, in mock formality. She smirks at him with a scathing grin, recognizing a challenge when she sees one, before linking arms with him. As they proceed to the bride and the groom and one of the flowers tucked into her braids fall to the ground, there is no question that when he picks it up and tenderly tucks it into her braid once more, his fingers will brush with the lightest of light touches the wisp of hair behind her ear.

He's only twenty, after all.

* * *

A/N. That took longer than I'd expected. Sooo…it's not really a drabble anymore. Sorry for the overuse in pronouns. I hope I didn't scare anyone with the thought that Laurie may be gazing at someone else, not Jo. And I apologize for the last line. I'm just too tired to care now….

Oh and for some reason I see Jo's hair as two braids wrapped around her head. Crazy. I think I confused it with the alternate cover of the '94 movie that shows all of the girls in bridesmaid dresses – and Jo with short hair. Short hair…braids…big diff. I'm usually a stickler for these kind of things too. In the book she has a long coil of hair at this point in time, I think.

I am happy however, that it didn't turn out too stalkerish. I was worried and I apologize if tomorrow (err…in a couple of hours) I reread this and see he's acting creepy. Maybe Jo should've clocked him. Who knows? Brooding Laurie, I like. Stalkerish Laurie – ehhh, not so much. Blame Sting. He does a good creepy. I've become a fan of The Police lately (BTW I had no idea that they just played the Grammys, nevermind going on TOUR), and man, are a lot of their lyrics about obsession and generally sad things. My head's pounding from listening to them. And to think Sting went from that to playing Dr. Frankenstein in a horror movie remake, to playing an effing lute. I mean, COME ON! (I mean no offense to lute players and lovers anywhere. Unless you're name is Sting.) I bet it's actually a wicked cool instrument. And I also can't believe I just swore. What is it about writing that makes me get all snarky? I'm not like this in person, I promise!!


End file.
